


i would rather lose (than to have never lain beside it all)

by magicites



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi, Or one character stealing a love interest from another, Sadstuck, This isn't a story about love triangles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicites/pseuds/magicites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're just a little too broken for the pieces to fit together anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i would rather lose (than to have never lain beside it all)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Legendaerie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendaerie/gifts).



> This is divided into two chapters: the first from John's point of view, and the second from Vriska's. The first part was written as part of a sadstuck challenge between myself and Saro (that I might have won??? I don't know), and the second was written just because I thought adding Vriska's thoughts would make it even more tragic.
> 
> Melodrama! Yay!

**7:00 A.M.**

The alarm clock rings, a loud _bzz-ing bzz-ing bzz-ing_ that echoes in your ears. You groan, and shut it off before it wakes up anyone else. Getting up for work is a pain in the ass, but as head househoncho, it’s your job to be the main source of income.

**8:00 A.M.**

Breakfast sizzles away in the kitchen, eggs cooking to perfection. You have a natural talent for cooking, and your breakfast making skills have only perfected with time. Your eggs are always either perfectly scrambled or sunnier than the stars themselves, depending on how you decide to cook them that day. The bacon is already done, and sits on a nearly plate, grease seeping into the paper towels the meat rests on.

From behind you, Vriska watches impassively, a literal ghostly specter. Blank eyes track your every movement. It’s not creepy anymore. Just another once-strange thing that makes up your life.

After the defeat of Lord English, the dreambubbles disappeared, but the ghosts didn’t. They were finally freed from their prisons, and many decided to follow a living player into the new universe. Vriska followed you, and you’ve never really minded her presence. Over time, you’ve become a family. Small, but still good.

“Why are you making three eggs, John?” She asks. “You’re never going to be able to eat all that food.”

You shrug. “Maybe someone else wants it.”

“But he’s gone, John. Who will be able to eat it?”

You look back. “Ghosts can eat too, can’t they? Why don’t you have it?”

Vriska huffs, looking like she wants to protest more, but the two of you have gone down this road enough times to know that any further protests are useless.

You give her a plate of food, one to match your own.

You eat together in silence.

**10:00 A.M.**

You don’t mind your job. You work at a film editing company, and you act as the last stop for a film going out of the building and the first stop for one coming in. You’re a glorified postal worker, but the pay is nice and you get to watch movies weeks before they ever go to theaters.

A package comes in, one full of raws for some weird indie film that just barely scraped together enough money to send it to your company. As you take it to its destination, you overhear a couple of your coworkers gushing about a new movie coming out next week.

“Oh, and the lead is such a good actress! She has such great chemistry with the male lead. It’ll be the best romantic comedy of the year,” one says.

You think of Karkat, and a small smile crosses your face.

**12:05 P.M.**

You go on your lunch break. You forgot to pack a lunch today, yet when you go back to your desk to grab your keys, you find a paper bag waiting for you. Confused, you open it and pull out all of your favorite foods.

At the very bottom is a note. There’s nothing on it but a small smiley face written in a messy scrawl. It’s a simple gesture of affection, but one that makes a warmth blossom through your body.

**5:25 P.M.**

You come home. The only sound you hear is some quiet music coming from the T.V. Curious, you walk into the den and find Vriska curled up on the couch, pillow tucked against her chest. She’s so tiny, five feet and four inches of knife-sharp wit and pure danger, and yet she looks no older than 13. That’s the downside of being a ghost, you suppose; the inability to physically age, no matter how mature their mind may become.

She looks up at the sound of your footsteps. “Hey John.” She gestures to the T.V., which, you now realize, is in the middle of playing 50 First Dates. “I found this old movie in that dumb pile you keep in the closet. Want to finish it with me?”

You sigh bitterly. “Vriska, why were you in that closet anyways? It’s not your stuff to touch.”

“It’s not yours either!” She counters angrily.

She has a point, no matter how much you don't want to admit it. “Fine, I’ll watch it with you,” you finally say. “Move over.”

**6:00 P.M.**

You now remember why you don’t like watching this movie. It brings up really painful memories.

Yet, you can’t stop reminiscing.

**6:12 P.M.**

Four years, three months, and two days ago, at this very time, you won the game. Your group defeated Lord English once and for all, paving the way for a new universe, one that would actually allow for peace and tranquility.

You couldn’t have done it without Karkat. None of you could have.

English needed to be distracted. Your Void players had found a way to cast him into nothingness, but they needed time. English was preparing for the attack that you had personally seen wipe out entire dreambubbles, entire legions of friends who only wanted to be free.

You volunteered to be the distraction, and take the brunt of the hit so the others could survive. You had kissed Karkat one last time, and ignored his protests as you flew over to the monster, drawing his attention away from the others.

His lights shined bright and intense in your eyes. You came face to face with death, as a blast of pure energy tore through the very fabric of space itself to you.

At the last moment, Karkat grabbed you, and pushed you clear out of the way. He took the full brunt of the attack.

His eyes, so calm and proud in his final moments, never left yours.

That day, you learned that love, real love, the kind that has been sung of since the dawn of time, the kind that can create lives and build entire worlds, is watching someone die.


	2. on the night you left i came over (left our love in our summer skin)

**7:00 A.M.**

John's alarm clock rings throughout the house, mournful and empty. When the squeal ends abruptly, you know he's awake, too.

You haven't slept, not in sweeps. Why would you need to, when you're a ghost?

You turn off the movie you were watching (Ghostbusters, you've seen it five times already, and it's alright but not all that great), and walk to the kitchen.

You stare out the window and wonder if John will ever water the plants in the backyard again.

**8:00 A.M.**

John's cooking too much food again. He's trying to feed two when he only needs to feed one. Why would you ever eat, when you're a fucking ghost?

You look over to the bacon, resting atop a throne of greasy paper towels. What an idiot. He'll never be able to finish that all by himself.

You go back to watching John as he moves about the kitchen, humming a cheery tune under his breath. It's the opening theme song to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, and your cold, dead heart aches just a little bit for this idiotic, delusional boy. He doesn't even know he's doing it.

You mean to tell him to stop, but you hesitate, out of some twisted pity, and instead, you say, "why are you making three eggs, John? You're never going to be able to eat all that food."

He shrugs. "Maybe someone else wants it."

Who would? Rose, who learned to patch up her own broken pieces and finally became someone interesting?

Dave, who drew away from the others after the game, and had to have Jade chase him across the entire globe just to pull him out of his shell?

(You should have gone with them after the game, but which one of them would have wanted you? Not even John wants you around.

He used to.

But that was a long, long time ago.)

Or the boy who was vaporized to less than nothing just after he had his first kiss with the very idiot you're looking at?

"But he's gone, John. Who will be able to eat it?" You ask.

He looks back at you, once-bright eyes now clouded over by weary shadows. He's gone through a transformation; backtracked through the same quest he once went through on his planet during the game. A once clear heart is now clouded over by dark shadows.

"Ghosts can eat too, can't they? Why don't you have it?"

You huff, unable to protest. He tosses down a plate of eggs and bacon in front of you. You frown, and eat it in silence.

It doesn't taste like anything at all.

**10:00 A.M.**

John's left for work. You're stuck going through another day of wondering around the house by yourself.

You could go outside, but what fun is it, when the only other people who can see you live on the other side of the globe?

You've grown bitter over the sweeps. You're still stuck in the body you have when you were six sweeps old, but your mind is so much older.

It doesn't make any sense considering the fact that you're dead, but you're tired down to your nonexistent bones.

**12:05 P.M.**

John forgot his lunch today, that big dummy. You bet he's eating it right now, smiling at the stupid note you left him.

Who ever said you didn't do kind things for others?

**3:05 P.M.**

The worst thing is the boredom, you realize. You've scoured through every inch of this house you can. There's nothing left to see, and nothing left to do.

You're bored with this...whatever you have. This stage between life and death.

You sigh, and mutter to yourself, "John, get home already." He may be completely hopeless, but it's at least a little more interesting when he's around.

You loved him with all of your heart, once. Wanted to see him become the very best he could be. You don't remember why, but you do remember the strange feeling you had whenever you were around him.

It's gone now, replaced by something wearier and more pitiful.

Just like him.

There's one area you haven't gone into since you came here. John's forbid you from going in there, and you've obeyed him for so long out of some sense of obligation.

You push the closet door of John's room open, and walk inside.

You recognize some of Karkat's old things.

There's a pile of movies you've never seen before. You crouch down, and begin to look through them.

**5:25 P.M.**

You're curled up on the couch, watching some movie called 50 First Dates. It's nothing special in your book, but so far, it's alright.

You hear the door unlock and open, but you don't move from your spot on the couch. You cradle the pillow you're holding close to your chest.

John walks into the den, and you look up at him. "Hey John," you say, gesturing to the scene unfolding on the T.V. "I found this old movie in that dumb pile you keep in the closet. Want to finish it with me?"

He doesn't look angry at all, even when he sighs bitterly. Just empty. "Vriska, why were you in that closet anyways? It's not your stuff to touch."

"It's not yours either!" You counter angrily. He's deader than dead anyways, so why does it matter? Why hoard stuff that used to belong to a guy that doesn't exist anymore?

He's silent for a long time, long enough to make you worry. "Finally, he says, "fine, I'll watch it with you. Move over."

You do.

He stares at the screen blankly.

**6:12 P.M.**

John started crying in the middle of the movie. He doesn't move at all as the tears stream down his face. It's as if he's frozen.

"John?" You murmur, cautiously touching his shoulder. He doesn't react at all.

"John!" You say, louder this time. "John, how am I supposed to be your moirail if you never fucking let me in!? If you just pretend he's here and I'm not!? He's fucking deader than dead, get over it already! It's been four whole human years, and it's time to move on!"

Your words don't reach him.

You loved this boy once, with every inch of your soul. You still do, somewhere deep down inside. You wanted so much for him; so much for the two of you.

But those feelings have been discarded for a long time now, reserved for another day and place where maybe things didn't turn out this way.


End file.
